


I'll Burn

by wednesday



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-02 07:18:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18806371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wednesday/pseuds/wednesday
Summary: “Are you– are you apologizing for being injured?” Dorian looked at him with an expression so bewildered Cullen managed to feel some amusement through the fog of pain.





	I'll Burn

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tangerine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/gifts).



“This is not how I saw our leisurely stroll through the countryside going,” Dorian said, barely short of breath not even a minute after fighting for his life. For the briefest moment Cullen felt envious, but then dismissed it. Pain made him unreasonable.

“Ah, my apologies.” Cullen tried to stand up straighter, but the wound on his leg shot jolts of pain all the way up to his bruised shoulder.

“Are you– are you apologizing for being injured?” Dorian looked at him with an expression so bewildered Cullen managed to feel some amusement along with his hurt.

“I should have noticed the ambush before we walked right in the middle of it.” Guilt was so familiar it was almost comforting. “The point of me accompanying you was to prevent such a thing from happening,” Cullen said, and hoped he didn’t sound as self-pitying as he felt. It had, for a while, truly been a nice stroll through the woods. He’d let it make him careless.

“Your Southern Templar powers extend to sensing bandits? Quite impressive! Not better than the thing with grapes and feathers, but impressive nonetheless.”

Dorian hit the ground with the end of his staff and the faintly purple mist that rose from the dead bandits made Cullen’s teeth itch. He was glad his hand was already on his sword – it was the one thing that stopped him from giving offense. He tried desperately not to show how uneasy he was with Dorian’s magic. That someone could have such power over the dead – he’d heard whispers even among the other mages, but he’d never known Dorian to ill-use it. Only, Cullen could feel it a little, still, and it set him on edge.

“The – feathers?” he asked, mostly to distract himself. It sounded like the kind of thing that he was better off not knowing.

“Do ask Cassandra about that,” Dorian said, seemingly done with whatever magic he’d been performing. “Speaking of, I was certain the bears in these parts had a special hate towards her, but it seems to extend to you, as well.” He waved his hand at the two dead bears on the other side of the clearing, one of which was responsible for Cullen’s bruised shoulder.

Cullen had no manner of answer for that, though he recognized it as an opening for some jest. The pain was clouding his mind too much, but he wasn’t bleeding too heavily. Certainly he could at least see the mission through. He took a step and--

The next thing he noticed through the white hot agony were Dorian’s arms around him.

“--okay? I’ll be extremely cross with you, if you die now. I’m simply awful at navigating these blighted woods, and I refuse to get lost in a place that has too many bears and not enough wine.” Dorian helped Cullen down to the moss-covered ground and kept talking all the while.

“I’ll be okay,” Cullen said, and took a deep breath. “Only give me a moment and we can continue.” When the black spots in his vision cleared up, he was faced with Dorian’s disbelief.

“You can barely stand,” he said slowly, like he was talking to a madman. Cullen wanted to take offense, but really, he’d fainted into Dorian’s arms when trying to walk. It was too much to expect he would be able to take Dorian all the way to the ruins and back, and protect him from further ambushes besides.

“Ah, you’re right, of course. You’ll have to take the scouts with you – the camp isn’t far, it shouldn’t delay your task greatly.” Cullen felt rather foolish now, as he remembered the certainty with which he’d proclaimed himself as the best suited for the mission. He’d wanted to, what, show off? It seemed now like something he should have long since outgrown. Though perhaps trying and utterly failing to impress a mage was something he’d never stop doing.

“I’ll pretend you did not just ask me to leave you here for the bears,” Dorian scoffed, and kneeled on the ground next to Cullen. “Were you hit anywhere else? Don’t lie now, I’ll know if you do.”

“How could you possibly know such a thing?” Cullen had never heard of such magic and made sure to sound doubtful.

“I’ll know when you get up and fall over again, naturally. Not how I prefer men to swoon into my arms, let me tell you.”

It startled a laugh out of Cullen, and he could see a smile on Dorian’s face. His amusement was cut short, though, when Dorian gently prodded his thigh. “I’m not,” Cullen winced in pain, “not hiding any other injuries.”

Dorian spent another minute inspecting Cullen’s wound. Cullen tried to think of next week’s guard rotations to distract himself, both from the pain and from having Dorian leaning so close with all his attention on Cullen. Even so, he couldn’t help but notice the faint scent of some unfamiliar perfume wafting from Dorian’s hair.

“You’ll live,” Dorian said, finally, and got up from the ground. “The horses are likely on their way back to the stables by now, so you’ll have to suffer until we can get you some potions.” He sounded regretful and for once serious as he grasped both of Cullen’s arms. “Well, up you go. Let’s get to this camp.”

Cullen made sure to put his weight on his uninjured leg, and managed to rise somewhat upright. He swayed; the tight grip of Dorian’s hands on his arms felt like a brand, even through all the layers of his clothes.

Dorian lifted Cullen’s hand up, and Cullen realized too late what that meant. “Try not to accidentally drain my magic.”

“That’s – not how it works,” Cullen said, and tried desperately not to notice how warm Dorian’s skin felt where Cullen’s palm rested against his naked shoulder.

“Oh doesn’t it?” Dorian asked, and what Cullen could see of his smile made him wish he’d stayed silent. “So a mage and a Templar can have all the skin to skin touching they want?”

“Ah, yes? I’m not a Templar, though.” Perhaps it wasn’t the kind of past he could ever truly be free of.

Somehow Dorian’s smile dimmed without him moving a single muscle and Cullen wished his mind was clear enough to figure out what he’d said wrong. He’d rather take the jests at his expense than disappoint Dorian, and that – well. Instead of growing out of it, Cullen was getting worse at this, Maker help him.

“Which way is the camp, Commander not-a-Templar?” Dorian asked, and Cullen pointed East. After only a few steps it became clear Dorian would have to take most of Cullen’s weight. He did so easily and without complaint, and Cullen found himself surprised, even though he shouldn’t have been. He’d seen Dorian both in fight and practice field, but Cullen’s mind still had trouble separating “mage” and “frail”. The muscled arm around Cullen’s waist was decidedly neither frail nor weak.

They were slow enough that it was fast becoming clear Dorian would have to wait until tomorrow to continue on his task. By the time they got to the camp, Dorian was mostly carrying Cullen and Cullen was in too much pain to worry about the way his head was resting against Dorian’s shoulder.

“Oh, thank the Maker, I was starting to think you were using some different meaning of ‘not far’.”

Cullen didn’t try to answer, only focused on not tripping over his own feet. As they got closer, the camp looked empty and still. “Not ominous at all, this,” Dorian muttered, and even through the haze of pain Cullen noticed the way Dorian maneuvered them to be in front of him. It made Cullen feel strangely warm, even if it was another sign of how Cullen was failing at his job.

Cullen heard a faint rustle and a moment later one of Leliana’s scouts appeared out of nowhere, bow in hand.

“Commander,” she said, her voice low and even. “Do you need assistance? I’m keeping watch; the others left on a task for the Inquisitor, they’ll be back tomorrow.”

“Just our luck. Never mind, just show me where you keep healing salves around here,” Dorian said, seemingly unconcerned by being ignored. “We’ll be taking one of the tents for the night.”

Cullen didn’t try to keep up with Dorian and the unnamed scout as they talked some more, and was deeply relieved when Dorian gently deposited him on a soft blanket inside the closest tent. He closed his eyes with a sigh and a moment later was drifting off.

 

-

Someone entering the tent wasn’t enough to fully wake Cullen, though with some distant part of his mind he noticed he was no longer alone. He did slowly return to wakefulness when someone started to move his arm.

“–not how I’ve imagined doing this.”

It took Cullen a moment to realize the voice belonged to Dorian and so did the hands removing Cullen’s gauntlets. He tried to focus on the feeling of Dorian’s fingers tracing his hands to keep himself awake. It felt like a pleasant dream, right up until Dorian was done undoing the vambrace and pauldron of one arm and reached for the other. Cullen groaned in pain when his shoulder was moved and suddenly felt like it had been set on fire.

“Ah, so you did lie!” Dorian unlaced the other vambrace and carefully ran his palms down Cullen’s arm, searching for the wound.

“It’s the shoulder,” Cullen said, keeping his eyes closed. “Just bruised.”

“Just bruised, he says.” Dorian sounded, once again, disbelieving as he removed the remaining pauldron without moving Cullen’s arm any more.

Cullen could hear the faint sounds of pieces of his armour being stacked somewhere on the other side of the tent. He tried to brace himself for the pain of sitting up. Dorian returned, though, and asked for no such thing. Cullen felt a feather-light touch at his temple for a moment and only then realized a couple of tears had escaped his eyes, and Dorian had just wiped them away.

Next he unbuckled Cullen’s belt, and it felt like a thing Cullen should have been able to do for himself, but he didn’t have the strength to object. The fur shoulder wrap came off with surprisingly little pain. Dorian did have to fit his hand under Cullen’s waist to get at the ties of the vest, but then that too came off easily.

“Now, how do you open this thing?” Dorian rapped his knuckles against Cullen’s breastplate softly. “All this Southern fashion is beyond me.”

“You–” Cullen didn’t quite laugh, but he did have some trouble getting his breath.

“Oh, yes, do laugh at the man helping you,” Dorian said, and Cullen could hear the mirth in his voice. Cullen opened his eyes and, oh, was it a mistake. Dorian was leaning over him, his smile bright in the waning light. Cullen could swear he felt his heart skip a beat. He looked at Dorian’s face for several long moments as Dorian looked back; after a while Dorian’s smile widened, and his eyebrow rose. Cullen realized he’d been staring far too long, but he felt stunned and could not look away.

“It fastens at the sides and shoulders,” Cullen said, when he remembered to breathe and could finally get enough air again.

Dorian hummed in answer and swiftly undid the fastenings; Cullen felt a slight chill when the plate was removed. He watched as Dorian moved to his legs and took off his boots, and then unlaced his trousers. Cullen expected some jest, but none came. Instead Dorian pulled Cullen’s trousers down with a serious expression and jostled the wound as little as possible.

It felt fortunate, suddenly, that the evening chill had blanketed the camp already. The tightness of Cullen’s trousers, though, felt entirely unfortunate, as it made Dorian spend more time with his hands near– Cullen was not going to think about it. He’d have to get trousers with a fit not so close.

“You’ll have to sit up for this next part, I’m afraid,” Dorian said, when he was done stripping Cullen to his smalls. The hands under Cullen’s back felt strong and sure and Cullen somehow managed to sit up. Dorian kneeled at Cullen’s back and guided him until he was sitting back against Dorian’s chest.

“First, take this,” Dorian said, and put a flask to Cullen’s lips. It should have been obvious before, for a long while perhaps, but Cullen realized only now that he trusted Dorian. He swallowed a mouthful of potion and promptly started coughing. “Yes, it’s quite revolting, isn’t it? I’m sorry to say you won’t be able to take the pain potion for a few more minutes.”

“I know. The prophet’s laurel will react badly, otherwise.”

“Oh, this is not a skill I expected you to have, Commander,” Dorian said. He sounded intrigued, and his fingers made quick work of the ties on Cullen’s shirts.

“I’ll, ah, have to disappoint you,” Cullen paused to wince when Dorian lifted his arm to get the sleeves off. “It’s only that I’ve lived half my life in circles. I’ve heard mages discuss potion-making often.”

“Oh, you could never disappoint me, Commander,” Dorian said, and Cullen had the feeling he was being teased yet again. His head felt half filled with fluff, though, so he might have been wrong. “Well, now that I’ve undressed you, I feel I should warn I’m no healer. We’ll have to do this the regular way.”

Cullen felt the faintest whisper of magic, and suddenly the tent was illuminated by a handful of small floating orbs of light.

“That’s not the regular way.” Cullen waved weakly at the floating magic.

“Oh, isn’t it? It’s so quaint how you do things here in the South.”

Cullen could feel Dorian’s breath in his hair; the warmth of it and the cold of the evening air made him shiver.

“Are you cold?”

“You are not?” Cullen couldn’t help his disbelief. “I can see my own breath.” He truly could, which meant the night would be freezing and miserable.

“I’m always cold here, I assumed this was all normal for you people.” Dorian poured some purple solution from another flask on Cullen’s wound. “Bend your knee, will you?”

Cullen did, slowly, and Dorian put a clean folded cloth over the wound. It caught Cullen off guard, when Dorian’s hands circled Cullen’s thigh. He took a slow breath as Dorian wrapped a bandaging cloth around his leg. Dorian’s wrist kept brushing against the soft skin on the inside of Cullen’s thigh, and Cullen was sure the wound didn’t need to be wrapped quite so thoroughly. He was unexpectedly thankful for the amount of pain he was still in – it saved him from embarrassing himself. He kept breathing slowly and watching the floating bits of light, waiting for it to be over.

He never wanted it to be over.

“All done,” Dorian said cheerfully. He gave Cullen the pain potion, which was thankfully not as unpalatable as the healing one, and helped him lay back down.

As Dorian was piling all the blankets over him, Cullen noticed his hands faintly shiver. He needed a moment to understand what it meant – the second potion must have been the distilled kind – and he caught one of Dorian’s hands.

“You’re cold,” he said, and what had he meant to– oh. “You should get under the blankets, too.”

“Commander, are you inviting me into your bed?” Dorian asked and clutched at his chest in faux outrage. “I did not think this day would come.”

“It’s cold,” Cullen repeated, and it had definitely sounded more convincing in his mind.

“Oh, very well,” Dorian agreed, to Cullen’s surprise. “You’ll have to let go of my hand.” Cullen released him, and felt a faint flush spread across his face. Dorian removed most of his clothes, until he too was left in only his smalls, and slipped under the blankets as well. He extinguished all but one of the lights with a wave of his hand.

Cullen watched it swirl at the roof of the tent, and felt too many things to name them. He tried to breathe deeply until the first shock of the potion passed. He’d had this kind before – it faded in minutes and left only a pleasant numbness of the body.

Dorian moved closer, put his arm across Cullen’s chest and pressed the side of his face against Cullen’s good shoulder.

“Worry not, Commander, I won’t take advantage of your delicate state to seduce you,” Dorian said, and it sounded like another jest, but for some reason Cullen was sure Dorian wasn’t amused by it himself. His voice was wrong, somehow.

“You could,” Cullen admitted. Only a minute later and he wouldn’t have, but the last traces of the potion were still muffling his self-restraint.

“Mmm, I could,” Dorian said, and he sounded so very different all of a sudden, sharp and _considering_ , “but then you would wake up clear-headed tomorrow, and feel very differently about it.”

Cullen turned his head and looked at Dorian – his expression was sharp, as well, and his eyes looked dark and dangerous. They looked at each other for a few silent moments, their breaths mingling.

“You _should_.”

Dorian’s eyes turned even darker, and he leaned forward the last few inches and kissed Cullen firmly. Cullen kissed back desperately, and tangled his fingers into the longest part of Dorian’s hair. Dorian made some faint sound that was muffled against Cullen’s mouth, and bit Cullen’s lip lightly. He moved closer to Cullen, and the pain was absent, but Cullen definitely felt the muscles in his arm and shoulder twitch at the pressure. So did Dorian, evidently, as he broke the kiss and moved back.

“Ah, the actual seducing will have to wait until tomorrow.” Dorian ran his fingers through Cullen’s hair and his hand stopped at the back of Cullen’s neck.

“You won’t–”

“Oh, I will definitely not change my mind.” Dorian’s voice and smile were both wicked. Cullen felt breathless and so very unwilling to wait.

“I didn’t know,” he said, because he desperately needed this to be real and not a fever dream.

“We spent half the day yesterday making conversation about riding,” Dorian said, exasperated.

“I thought you liked horses.” It sounded halfway to a question. Dorian laughed loudly, then muffled his laughter against Cullen’s shoulder.

When he fell silent, Cullen whispered against his hair, “Don’t change your mind.”

The only answer he received was the feel of Dorian’s teeth biting his collarbone softly. The warm fingers at the back of his neck felt like a balm. Soon after Cullen drifted off to sleep once more.

 

  

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to awesome donutsweeper for betaing this at the last minute.


End file.
